


Purple Velvet and Other Flavors

by Darkmagyk



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Cupcakes, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Purple cupcakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/pseuds/Darkmagyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine person A of your OTP coming home from a long, hard day at work and being presented with a tray of cupcakes person B made for them while they were out.</p><p>In which both Clint and Phil practice their baking skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Despite starting like fifty, this is the first fic I've completed in over a year, written when I should have been writing a paper about rape culture and heteronormativity. Based on the Imagine your OTP prompt in the summary, it came to my attention via Ralkana on tumblr.

Phil sighs deeply, exhausted and frustrated and just plain tired of the world. May was in the hospital, Ward was training at HQ, Skye was probably doing something terrifying and illegal that could cripple SHIELD, and FitzSimmons had said something going to the monkey house at the zoo. Phil really hoped they'd heard (and would listen to) him when he said not to bring back a pet for the bus. He really really hoped.

But he was home now, at least. In New York, where he knew what place to order take-out from and had really nice flannel sheets and a tivo with a season pass of Real Housewives. It also might have the smell of Clint Barton on the pillows, though he and Natasha were still in Vienna doing something that Phil wasn't clear on the details of (he'd been to busy to get the eyes only clearance necessary, though he desperately wanted to know). So his little New York apartment would be the closest approximation a place could be to home without having Clint in it.  

He turns the key in the lock and then quickly punches in the key code and scans his finger to disengage the primary security system. But as he pushes the door in, he is hit by the unmistakable smell of fresh baked cake, and the unmistakable sound of someone banging around in the kitchen.

He cannot stop himself, he rushes into the kitchen without taking off his jacket, tie, or shoes, his normal at home ritual.

"Phil" And their is Clint, beautiful, perfect, amazing Clint. He's wearing jeans, and a t-shirt, and he's using a piping bag to ice bright violet icing on bright violet cupcakes. But he pauses when Phil stops dead in the kitchen, noticing that his weary eyes and the fact that he's still fully dressed and holding his body tightly, "Babe," he says "What's wrong?"

Phil lets out another deep sigh, but its a cleansing one, he entire body loosens "I have never, in my life, been so happy to see anyone. EVER."

Clint comes around the small Island they put in the kitchen and Phil can now see that he's wearing those University of Iowa slippers, embroidered with the team mascot and logo. Jasper and Woo had gotten them for him during a mission to the Midwest a million years ago, presumably because they thought it'd be funny and ironic, and completely unaware that it was where Clint had gotten is B.S. Phil had been mad at the time, but Clint was still so unused to accepting gifts (still is really), even gag gifts, he hadn’t cared. Now though, they’re so perfectly Clint and it makes Phil want to sob with happiness.

Clint wraps his arms around Phil and the older agent sinks into the embrace. "I am so happy to be home." Phil mumbles into Clint neck, and goes easily when Clint guides into one of the chairs at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. He doesn't protest when Clint strips off his jacket and throws it easily over the other chair before moving onto the tie. He finishes off by unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt and dropping a kiss the recently exposed collar.

"You're on your own for the shoes." Clint says with a smile, "I have to finish the cupcakes."

Phil smiles at him and takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of Clint's baking. "They smell great," he looks at the color a bit bemused, "What kind are they?"

"Purple velvet with purple cream-cheese icing." Clint grins, picking up the bag again, "I know red velvet is your favorite, and no one ever questioned Mama Fontaine's recipe any more then they'd question her tarot readings."

"And the purple?" Phil asks.

"Something to remember me by." Clint says, still grinning, "wanted to make my mark on them, I haven't seen you in a month, Phil. And considering I just got you back, that's to long."

Phil nods and toes off his shoes, he thinks about asking why Clint isn't in Austria, how that mission had gone. He considers complaining about his new team and Fury and about how much the world was changing from when they'd started at SHIELD.

Instead he stands up, stretches and walks over to Clint, leaning into his side, and kissing his cheek before he reaches out and grabs a cupcake, and takes a huge bite out of the delicious purple monstrosity. Happy to bask in the glow of domesticity and Clint and home for a little while.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small gestures never go out of style

Clint balls his hands into fists to keep himself from messing with the fresh stitches carved into his shoulder. _Pick at them, and you'll lengthen your recovery_ he repeats to himself, in a voice that sounds like Coulson's. Because every time he tells himself to take better care of himself, its in Coulson's voice. He might be a little (really a lot) fucked up. Phil loves him anyway. Clint doesn't always understand it, but he's grateful as fuck to a higher power he doesn't believe in.

He smiles despite himself as trudges up the stairs. Phil will be home tonight. He's on medical leave from his rag-tag team (well, his fourth rag-tag team) and while Clint needs him to cut the whole weekly risking his life shit OUT, he's glad to know that after a day of paperwork at HQ, Phil will come home and their will be couch cuddle.  

He almost went to the tower, after he was released from SHIELD medical after the giant mess of an opp. where the too green handler and the too green junior agents couldn't keep their cool and Clint had to save fucking everyone. Fury's just lucky that he'd told Clint beforehand that the entire point of including him was to make sure that the juniors didn't all get themselves killed on their first non-milk run trip into the field. He'd have been royally pissed otherwise. As it is, he is mostly just annoyed and resigned.

The Tower has bigger beds, bigger screens, and hot water and the accompanying pressure to die for. It also has JARVIS to get to do everything for you, he thinks as he fumbles with the lock and the security measures. But even if it was just for a shower and a quick nap, the the tower doesn't have Phil's Red Sox sweatshirt or his army sweatpants or Clint's Hawkeyes slippers. And there's really no point in sleeping off a terrible opp. if he can't be buried in Phil's cloths and waiting for his boyfriend to come home.

But the second he pushes into the apartment he's met with a light burnt smell and a loud curse of "Damn it."

"Phil," Clint calls, worriedly stepping towards the Kitchen. It is an absolute disaster.

Something that would look like flour to the untrained eye coats most of the surfaces. half a stick of butter appears to be congealing to the stove top. An entire carton of eggs, half full of broken shells and yoke rest next to the sink and to what appears to be all of the measuring cups and both the small, medium, and large mixing bowls, a whisk, a wooden spoon and a metal spoon. Electric purple liquid that Clint assumes (hopes) is food coloring covers about a fifth of the counter space, a streak on the white fridge, all of Phil's hand, and the left side of his face.

Phil is standing behind the island, white t-shirt covered in batter and purple spots and other things. In front of him are two dozen cupcakes, a violent shade of violet covered various bits of brown, four of them were directly in front of Phil, all dripping the bright purple icing that is also in a small cereal bowl to his left and on the dinner knife in his hand.

Phil's look is utterly dejected, like when he's falling asleep at his desk and Clint has to physically drag him home without all of his paperwork being done.

"Babe," Clint asks, "what are you doing?"

Phil lets out a frustrated, exhausted sigh, "Trying to make you cupcakes." he jams the knife into last cupcake he'd tried to ice, the purple frosting now starting to pool around its base. He looks at once petulant and dangerous with the knife in his hand. "I'm trying to make you purple cupcakes. But it isn't working. I don't know why it isn't working."

"Did you just take them out of the oven?" asks Clint delicately.

"Yeah, I knew you'd be home within the hour, I wanted them to be warm for you." Phil insists.

Clint gives him a bright smile, "That's sweet of you, Babe, but you have to give them time to cool so they don't melt the icing."  

"I'm sorry." Phil says, his shoulders slumping as he glances around the mess he'd made. "I just, when I came home a month ago, and you'd made me cupcakes, it was so perfect, just the perfect fucking day." Clint's lips twitch, Phil didn't curse in civilian life unless he absolutely meant it. "And I knew I couldn't make much of anything, let alone homemade purple velvet cupcakes, but I figured even I couldn't mess up white cake mix from a box at the store. I was apparently wrong about that."

Clint walks over around to Phil, and guides him so they were facing each other, making sure Phil was balanced, because he wasn't holding his cane. He raises up a bit and places a kiss on Phil's forehead. But keeping a bit of space between them, covered in sweat and dirt and his field uniform and not wanting to get Phil (or himself) any dirtier.

"Thank you." Clint says, his voice sincere and his eyes soft.

"For what? For destroying the kitchen? Wasting all our eggs, oil, butter that wasn't even necessary, and your purple food coloring?" Phil asks.

"For doing this for me, for wanting to make me happy. For loving me despite every red flag I raise."

"You don't raise any..." Phil trails off at Clint's unimpressed look, knowing _that_  wasn't true, "Ok, but you aren't hard to love, and I always want to make you happy." Phil gives a tiny smile, but it turns into a grimace when he looks around the kitchen again. "You look exhausted, you should take a shower and a nap." he said "I'll clean up in here."

"No," Clint shakes his head, "That's not what is going to happen."

Phil raises and eyebrow and Clint gives his brightest smile.

"I'm going to go take a shower, and you're going to come with me." He brushes the purple food coloring on Phil's face and the batter splattered in Phil's hair. "We are going to help each other get clean." He is already starting to lead Phil to the bedroom "and then I am going to put on your Red Sox sweatshirt and army sweatpants, and you are going to put on my Hawkeyes shirt and my purple sweatpants, and we are going to cuddle into our bed and take a nice long nap. When we get up, we will order in a late dinner, and have couch cuddle while eating Mexican, I know we normally go for Chinese on nights like this, but I just got back from China so the answer is no."

Phil leans into Clint as they reached the bathroom, starting to undress as Clint turns on the shower and continues "Then we are going to order four cupcakes from Daisy's and go to sleep. After we sleep in a lot tomorrow, we will walk up, go to the diner across the street, before returning, starting up Dog Cops on netflix on your laptop, and cleaning the kitchen together." He pulls his shirt over his head and Phil sighs happily at both the sight and the plan. "What do you think?"

"I think" Says Phil as he stepped into the shower with Clint, pulling him into a close embrace, "That you are the perfect man, and I love you more then anything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have five thousand words worth of epic love story adventure between Clint and Coulson, and I end up finishing domestic fluff about cupcake. I'm pretty sure their is a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm not an English major, so I don't know what it means.
> 
> Here is my [tumblr](http://darkmagyk.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> here is a picture of Clint's [splippers](http://media.kohls.com.edgesuite.net/is/image/kohls/966322?wid=400&hei=400&op_sharpen=1)
> 
> Here is my [tumblr](http://darkmagyk.tumblr.com/)


End file.
